


you got me so i can't sleep at night

by folignos



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/pseuds/folignos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘You gonna be good for Daddy, Patrick?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	you got me so i can't sleep at night

**Author's Note:**

> i-- have no excuse for this. it is shameless, shameful, self-indulgent daddy kink filth. enjoy!
> 
> title from the kinks' you really got me. thanks to amanda for talking me off several minor ledges! 
> 
> find me on [twitter](http//:twitter.com/folignos)!

The nickname is weird. Jason accepts that.

He’s not surprised that it followed him to Dallas though, a whole new group of guys calling him Daddy with a smirk, like they know how ridiculous it is. He figures it’s not so weird if everyone does it.

-

There are a couple of new guys in the locker room this season. Sharpy and Johnny seem like good dudes. Johnny fits in great, clicks with Jason on and off the ice, and Jason knows he’s not supposed to look, but. He’s pretty fuckin’ easy on the eyes.

Jason likes Johnny a lot, is his point, here.

Sharpy, though. Sharpy _intrigues_ Jason.

He talks a lot of shit in the locker room, prides himself on terrible rookie nicknames and dumb pranks. The guys _love_ him. There isn’t much that throws him, Jason finds, and he has something of a talent for finding something to needle a guy with.

Except. Sharpy only ever calls him Jason, or Jase. Which is not _weird_ , per se. Except for how it really, really is.

-

‘Yo, Daddy, fuckin’ beauty hit on Gallagher tonight!’ Jordie bellows from across the room. Jason winks at him, and grins.

A couple of stalls down, Sharpy ducks his head to untie his skates, pink cheeked. He’s probably just flushed from the game though. Probably.

-

‘Aww, come on Daddy, buy the next round,’ Spezza says, flutters his eyelashes, and then gigglehonks with laughter.

Next to him, Sharpy angles his body away, and strikes up a stilted conversation with Nemo.

-

Hey, asshole,’ Sharpy starts, marching across the locker room. ‘I know it was you who put the plastic spiders in my skates. This means war.’

Jason grins up at him, innocent. ‘You can prove nothing.’

‘Yeah, Sharpy, Daddy wouldn’t do that,’ Klingberg says, deadly serious, from where he’s taping his socks.

Sharpy stutters through a couple of words, and then snaps his mouth shut, stalking away.

Jason watches him leave, and wonders.

-

They’re doing one on ones on the ice, mostly dicking around while Lindy runs through some stuff with the rookies. Sharpy tries some fancy deke around Jason, and he just poke checks the puck away, tripping Sharpy in the process and sending him tumbling to the ice.

‘Thanks for that, dick,’ Sharpy grumbles, getting to his knees.

Jason laughs, and reaches out a hand to help him up. Sharpy ignores it, and climbs to his feet, retrieving his stick.

‘What, you don’t want Daddy’s help?’ Jason isn’t really sure why he says it, but as soon as he has, he knows he shouldn’t have.

Sharpy’s shoulders are a line of tension, and his back has gone stiff. He flexes his hands in his gloves, picks up his stick, and skates off without looking back. Jason skates to the back of his own line and watches the Benns face off against each other.

Sharpy’s off the rest of practice, missing passes, open nets, wiping out more than once.

Jason tries to talk to him on the way off the ice, but he ignores him, rips his gear off and is in and out of the shower while Jason’s still fighting a shinpad.

-

‘Hey,’ Jason says, sneaking up behind Sharpy in the hotel corridor. Sharpy jumps, and looks round. He looks wary when he sees Jason, who holds his hands up in surrender. ‘I just came to apologise.’

Sharpy eyes him, but gets his key card out and lets Jason into his room, sitting on the edge of the bed to toe his shoes off.

‘I was just, you know. Yanking your chain. It was just chirping. But it was an asshole thing to do, knowing how uncomfortable it makes you.’

Sharpy says nothing. Jason pauses, unsure.

‘I’ll back off,’ he says, eventually, and Sharpy looks up at him. Jason’s about five years younger than Sharpy, but when Sharpy looks up at him through his eyelashes, he feels about ten years older. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, but Jason can see the set of his jaw, and knows he’s trying to force some words out. He waits, patient.

‘Sorry, Daddy,’ he mumbles eventually, turning a delicate shade of pink, dropping his eyes again.

Oh, Jason thinks. _Oh._

‘You don’t-- have to use the name,’ Jason says, too late. ‘You can call me Jase, you know?’ He grins, crooked. ‘It’s just a name.’

‘No-- I know,’ Sharpy says. He looks conflicted about something, but doesn’t offer, and Jason doesn’t pry.

‘We still buds?’ Jason asks, holding his fist out. After a second, Sharpy bumps it. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘You’re a cool dude, Sharpy. Gonna be a good season playing with you.’

Sharpy offers him a smile, and Jason smiles back. He feels like it isn’t the end of this particular conversation, but he’s willing to table it for now.

-

Everything eventually comes crashing down on a road trip, because that’s when things always come crashing down, in Jason’s experience.

Sharpy’s drunk.

Jason’s drunk too, in fairness, the whole fucking team’s drunk, because they’re in Nashville, and that’s what you _do_ in Nashville.

What you don’t do in Nashville, generally speaking, is make out with your teammate in the alcove where the hotel ice machine is.

Sharpy’s kind of stubbly, but his lips are warm, and his hands are resting on Jason’s hips easily.

‘My room or yours?’ Jason asks, grinning when Patrick huffs a tiny laugh at him. ‘Mine, then. Yours probably looks like it got hit by several bombs.’ Sharpy’s silence is very telling, and Jason laughs, lacing his fingers with Sharpy’s and dragging him down the two or three doors to his room.

-

Sharpy kind of balks when he gets into the room. Jason kicks his shoes off, pulls his shirt over his head, drops backwards onto the bed to sprawl out across the sheets, but Sharpy just kind of-- stands there, in the middle of the room, looking reluctant.

‘Come on, Paddy,’ Jason says, and Sharpy’s face screws up.

‘Don’t call me that,’ he complains. Jason reaches out and grabs his wrist, pulling him onto the bed with a grin, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and tugging him in for a kiss as soon as his knees hit the mattress.

Sharpy’s really responsive, Jason discovers quickly. He’s gathered him into his lap, and Sharpy is rocking up and down, still in his dress pants, mouthing at Jason’s neck idly, while Jason’s hand skims up and down his spine, rucking his shirt up.

Eventually, the rest of the clothes come off, and Jason has him spread out on the bed, naked, ass pushing back into Jason’s hand while he opens him up slowly.

Sharpy’s panting a little, mouth shoved into the crook of his elbow. Jason can hear his muttered ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ in the quiet of the room.

‘You okay?’ he asks, letting the head of his dick rest just nudged between his cheeks.

Sharpy nods into his forearm, dragging his cheek across the sheets. ‘Yeah,’ he manages. ‘Just-- don’t _stop_.’

Jason rocks his hips carefully, sliding his cockhead over Sharpy’s rim, down to where his balls are hanging, heavy. Sharpy gasps, and Jason thinks, only semi-idly, about holding him down and fucking his thighs, slippery with sweat and pre-come, biting at the back of his neck where his hair is damp.

‘Gonna fuck you now,’ he says, and then gets hit with an idea. It’s-- maybe not his best, but if Sharpy balks, he can blame the beer ( _so_ much beer). ‘You gonna be good for Daddy, Patrick?’

Sharpy goes statue-still. Jason counts his own breaths, and gets to four before Sharpy whimpers, and nods, arching back into Jason’s hand.

Jason runs his free hand down Sharpy’s spine, slick with sweat, smacks his ass a little to make him jump. ‘Good,’ he says, and anchors his hand around Sharpy’s hip to push in slowly.

Sharpy just collapses underneath him when the dish of Jason’s pelvis is pressed against him, making muffled sounds into his arm. Jason kind of hopes he’s gonna leave teeth marks.

‘Fucking _move_ ,’ Sharpy grits out, when Jason doesn’t do anything. Jason waits. ‘Please,’ Sharpy tries. Jason still waits.

‘--Please, Daddy.’ Sharpy’s quiet, almost shy with it. He looks over his shoulder at Jason with slightly widened eyes and pink cheeks. His lips are swollen from kissing.

Jason drapes himself over Sharpys back, rolls his hips a little, kisses his shoulder blade, and then starts moving. Sharpy groans, and drops his head to his crossed wrists.

Jason doesn’t want to like, toot his own horn, but he’s had a lot of sex. He’s fucked a lot of people. He knows exactly how to make it good. He knows exactly how to make Sharpy cry, he thinks.

Jason doesn’t have the biggest dick around. He’s come to terms with that. He’s not like, microscopic, but he gets a lot of comments about how he must be a grower in the locker room, which: whatever. He knows how to use it, and he’s _never_ had any complaints from his partners (except this one girl, but. That’s a story for another time.)

Sharpy’s not exactly complaining right now, pushing back into Jason’s short, quick thrusts like he’s trying to fuck himself, like Jason’s hands aren’t holding him exactly where he wants him.

‘Jase,’ he says, panting. ‘Jase, Jason, _Daddy_ , I want--’

‘Yeah, Paddy,’ he says, quietly, hitching Sharpy’s hips up to change the angle a little. He makes a high-pitched noise, and tries to work a hand underneath himself. ‘I got you, bud,’ Jason says, and swats his hand out of the way to thumb at the base of his dick, pads of his fingers dragging along the underside.

Sharpy’s orgasm surprises the both of them. Jason’s barely gotten a hand on his dick, but he bites at Sharpy’s earlobe roughly, tugging at it with his teeth, and Sharpy makes a pained sound, curling in on himself as he shakes.

Jason thrusts a couple more times after Sharpy’s limp, but he makes a face like it hurts, and Jason stops, pulls out carefully.

‘Can I--’ he starts, and Sharpy nods.

‘Come on me, Jase,’ he says, rolling onto his back, loose and easy. His dick is softening, laying across his hip. Jason sits over his thighs and jacks his dick, bracing himself with a hand planted in the pillow by Sharpy’s head.

Sharpy leans up to kiss him, clumsy, and with way too much teeth for Jason’s liking, but he ducks his head, tilts Sharpy a little, and gets him to slow down, chill out a little. He comes on Sharpy’s belly easily, Sharpy swallowing up the sounds he makes with the kiss, and Jason drops down onto the bed next to him, leg slung over Sharpy’s thighs, trying to his best to avoid the shiny trails of come.

‘So,’ he says, when he’s caught his breath. Sharpy looks at him.

‘It might-- be a thing,’ he says, flushing.

‘Might,’ Jason deadpans.

Sharpy shrugs. ‘You seemed pretty into it too.’

Jason thinks about it. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were gonna freak on me at first,’ he says. ‘You went super quiet.’

‘Trying not to come on the spot,’ Sharpy admits.

Jasons grins, reflexively. That’s-- flattering. ‘You’d-- be up for doing it again then?’ he asks suddenly, without really meaning to.

Sharpy grins at him, wide. ‘ _Yeah_ ,’ he says. ‘It’s my turn to fuck you though.’

Jason’s dick twitches minutely. He knows Sharpy feels it, because his grin turns a little dirty, a little knowing. ‘I think we could probably-- work that out,’ he says, and leans in to kiss him, biting at his lower lip. ‘Maybe I’ll be good for you,’ he says.

‘Yeah? You gonna be a good boy, Daddy?’ Sharpy says, filthy, and Jason shudders. Yeah. It's definitely a thing for him, too.


End file.
